The Glass Is Always Half Naked
by damnmydooah
Summary: A fluke summer and a broken porch have a very desired effect on Luke and Lorelai. LL


The Glass Is Always Half Naked

by Damnmydooah

**Disclaimer**: My lawyer's name is Rocco Caggiano.

**Author's Note**: Hoo boy! Remember, way back when I posted something in my own review window thingy for "Brown Leather" in which I said I was working on another story that might be posted at the end of that week? Well, this is that story. Needless to say, it was not posted at the end of that week. It was not worked on for ages. It was hated. It endured abuse, both verbal and physical. It was ignored and neglected. It was blamed for several bad things. Consequently, it bonded with Jess.

But then, it was given another chance. It was opened again, exposed to the daylight. It's plotline and overall flow was considered. It was stared at for numerous silent minutes. It had entire paragraphs erased and others added. It was finished and sent halfway around the world to be worked on by more people. It suffered more abuse. Completely nonsensical semicolons were forced upon it. It was adjusted. Its title was hated and consequently changed to something completely different and totally vague during a latenight brainstorming session on MSN. It had an Author's Note added.

Here it is.

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**The Glass Is Always Half Naked**

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It was hot.

Too hot, if you thought about it.

And Lorelai was thinking about it.

It was a fluke summer, really. Connecticut wasn't supposed to get such hot summers. Yet here it was. A scorching hot summer. And it wasn't even the good kind of hot. The African kind of hot. The dry hot with a slight breeze that would make your hair flow and provide a little coolness as it passed under your clothes.

Nope, it wasn't that kind of hot. There wasn't a giraffe in sight.

Instead, it was the Italian kind of hot. Or the German or Dutch kind of hot.

Moist. Wet. The kind of hot that made your clothes stick to your back because you were sweating so much. The kind of hot that made you wonder why you even had eyebrows, because they didn't seem to be of much use now. The kind of hot that made you want to take your clothes off and stand among the sprinklers, people who saw your boobs be damned.

Since Lorelai did possess a modicum of modesty (only Kirk had stripped down to his man-panties and run around trying to catch some wind, but nobody cared about his boobs), she currently lay on the couch, surrounded by six fans that didn't even move enough air for her liking, dressed in a bikini and the shortest cut-off jeans she could find. Outside, she could hear the banging of Luke's hammer where he was, once again, fixing part of her porch rail.

She'd felt bad about asking him to do such hard work in this weather, but last night, Sookie had almost broken her neck by leaning against it and consequently tumbling through it into the bushes beneath. Sookie was known for her clumsiness but this time it hadn't been her fault.

Besides, the diner was closed anyway, because nobody felt like eating hot fries when they felt like fries themselves.

So there Luke was, banging away. He'd arrived in his trademark flannel (one of his old shirts though, at least six years) and baseball cap, wearing ratty jeans. She'd shuddered to discover he was even wearing a t-shirt underneath the flannel.

She shuddered again when she thought about it; that poor man must be melting out there!

Deciding it was a good idea to go out and check on him and ask if he wanted a refreshment, she reluctantly got up from her stationary position on the couch and walked outside through the open front door. The heat hit her like a brick wall.

If brick walls had legs and could run really fast, that is.

She found Luke off to the left and was glad to discover he'd discarded his flannel shirt some time ago. His gray t-shirt, however, was covered in sweat stains and his face looked particularly red.

She felt sorry for him.

"Hey, mister fix-it man, how's it going?"

He grunted.

"Uh, good then?"

He looked up, and she saw him blink twice before he properly set his eyes on her. "Uh, no," he said, "it's pretty messed up. I think I'll be out here all day."

"Oh Luke, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to have you spend your entire day on this stupid chore, especially not in this hideous weather. You could've−"

"Don't worry about it. Otherwise, I would've just sat around, and you know how much I hate sitting around."

He was looking at her, but she had the feeling that his eyes weren't quite focused on her face. She shifted on her feet.

"Well, at least let me get you something refreshing. I was just about to make some iced tea. You want?"

"You can make iced tea?" She looked at him. "Okay, sorry I doubted you. Iced tea sounds great. Go easy on the lemon please."

"Extra lemon for the fix-it guy. Got it."

"Hey..."

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, I heard you!"

She laughed at his grunt and walked back into the house.

In the kitchen she busied herself with teabags and getting the pitcher of cold water from the refrigerator. At a certain point she walked into Rory's empty bedroom, thinking that maybe the lemons she couldn't find earlier were there.

As she stood in front of Rory's bed silently cursing the lemon-hiding gnomes, she happened to glance outside through the open window.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Luke was right outside the window. Taking his t-shirt off.

Taking.

His.

T-shirt.

Off.

"Oh my..." Lorelai whispered.

He was pulling the gray t-shirt up over his head, his cap nowhere to be seen. The fabric slowly inched up, leaving nothing but naked skin in its wake. Naked Luke skin. Naked Luke skin covering his abdominal and pectoral muscles. Which were now naked. To see. With her eyes.

"Oh my..."

He had straightened up, throwing the t-shirt on the porch in front of him. His skin gleamed a deep tan where the sunbeams caught it and his biceps flexed when he gripped the hammer firmly in his hand.

Realizing she was practically drooling on the spot, Lorelai snapped out of it and turned around to finish the iced tea. In seconds, she could hear the hammering continue, and she tried not to think of Luke naked in her front yard.

Half-naked. He was half-naked.

But she caught herself too slowly and now her thoughts had wandered to a naked Luke.

Hmmm, she thought, naked Luke.

Naked Luke in her front yard. Naked Luke coming into the house. Naked Luke drinking iced tea in her kitchen. Naked Luke holding his hand out to her. Naked Luke leading her up the stairs. Naked Luke in her bedroom. Naked Luke on top of her. Naked Luke inside of–

"Gaah!!!" Bad thoughts, bad thoughts!

No naked Luke thoughts, Lorelai, they are bad for you. Not to mention Luke. He'd kill you if he knew you were thought-violating him. Naked Luke thoughts bad, iced tea thoughts good. Yes, iced tea. Oh, _there_ you were!!

She'd found the lemons.

As she sliced them, she forced her mind to think about anything but naked Luke.

Rory. Yale. Miss Patty. Kirk. Kirk in his man-panties. Ew. Bills. The water bill. Water. Lakes. The ocean. Swimming. Skinny-dipping. Naked Lu– no!!

Okay, Lorelai, try again.

Lemons. Lemon trees. Peach trees. Peaches. Peaches for free. The Presidents of the United States of America. Kennedy. Bush. Bush. Jackson. Washington. Nixon. Euh, Johnson. Roosevelt. Roosevelt again. Lincoln.

Okay. This was going very well.

The iced tea was done. She put some lemon slices in two glasses and carried them in one hand and the pitcher in the other outside, all the time reciting the presidents.

Adams.

Polk.

Harrison.

She walked through the door.

Tyler.

Garfield.

Pierce.

She caught sight of Luke.

Van Bu–

Not fair.

He stood in the middle of her yard; his head tilted upward, his left arm stretched above his head. In his left hand he held her garden hose.

Which had water coming out of it.

Not fair at all.

Glorious, cold, clear water. Water that hit his head and cascaded down his broad shoulders. Water that hit his chest, where on its way down it flattened the sprinkle of dark hair there. Water that dripped down to his abdominal muscles and created dark little spots on his jeans.

Luke for president?

She furiously tried to shake the image of Naked Luke on a dollar bill, but found herself unable to do so when he turned his head to fix his eyes on her and flashed her an apologizing grin.

God, she loved it when he grinned. Especially since he hardly ever did so. She could drown in the bright flash of his white teeth and the amazingly mesmerizing twinkle his eyes got. Combine that with the water still running over his very pleasing physique and she was lost.

She felt her jaw go slack. She failed to notice some other muscles go slack as well.

When his grin disappeared and made way for a slightly panicked look, her first thought was that he had read her look of utter longing and that he was uncomfortable with it, but when his gaze traveled downwards she finally realized what had happened.

She'd dropped the iced tea.

Real smart, Lorelai.

In her sheer unadulterated admiration of all things Luke, she had forgotten everything around her. Along with her jaw, the muscles in her left hand had stopped working and she'd simply let go of the handle of the pitcher. The pitcher had crashed to the porch floor and shattered in a hundred tiny pieces, sloshing iced tea all over her bare feet.

It was a miracle she didn't have any glass cuts.

Luke was by her side in an instant, still dripping wet and panting slightly.

"Are you okay? What the hell happened?" He stood next to her, looking from her face down to the floor and back up again. "Are you okay?" he repeated.

She desperately wanted to give him a patented Lorelai answer, something about being clumsy or stupid or both or that she'd decided that the iced tea was gross and that, instead of pouring it down the sink, she thought an iced tea colored stain would look good on the porch, but all she could do was stare down at her soon to be sticky feet because she knew that if she looked up, all she would see was his body and face and worried look and that she would attack him like a ferocious animal. And then Kirk would have to come to Luke's rescue with a tranquillizer gun and he'd probably still be wearing nothing but his man-panties.

That was the part she was worried about the most.

So she did a patented Luke thing: she grunted and walked away, back into the house.

In the kitchen she paced, leaned against the sink, and then paced again, wondering what, indeed, the hell happened out there.

Well, Lorelai, it's simple really, she told herself. You got all hot and bothered about Luke. As simple as apple pie.

Except that it wasn't simple at all, because she couldn't make apple pie.

And it wasn't simple at all because it was Luke, and Luke was her friend, as he had been for many many years and that had never been different. Okay, maybe she'd wondered, occasionally, fleetingly, what it would be like, and there had also been that dream, but really. It was Luke.

Maybe it was the weather.

Yes, that's it, Lorelai, she thought, it was the weather. It wasn't Luke that was getting you hot and bothered, it was the weather. You were hot and bothered before you even _saw_ him.

Satisfied with her logical reasoning, she stood still in the middle of the kitchen and heaved a sigh.

"Lorelai?"

Not realizing how close to her ear his deep voice had sounded, she flung herself around and nearly collided with his still bare chest. She screamed and shoved him.

Hard.

He nearly toppled over, but as he righted himself he managed to huff out an indignant, "What the hell?"

Confusion settled in her brain and made a home for itself.

She took a few steps back and mumbled an apology. He approached her.

"Lorelai, could you please talk to me? Because what happened outside was weird enough, but now you're really confusing me. Are you okay? Do you have a sunstroke or something?"

He was standing less than a foot away from her and she turned around and pretended to look for something in the refrigerator, all the while trying to find the words.

"No, see it was– and with the tea, uh, that was an– an, euh, accident and also– you– here, with the clo– and the, euh... It was the heat."

He looked puzzled. "What was the heat?"

"Euh, it."

"It what?"

"You know, it. Like a dummy word, like 'there'. Or maybe it was a trace of the real subject, or the uh, whatyamacallit, the uh, exploratative or explanatory or one of those other 'ex' words."

Still puzzled.

"The whole thing, with the dropping and such. It was the heat. That caused it. Heat is evil. In fact, I think it is the number one tool of the Devil, you know, to get us all heated up and then do stupid and sinful things and then he can take us to Hell."

Which is were I should be going anyway, she thought.

"Lorelai, you're not making any sense. And for once it worries me. You really could have hurt yourself out there!"

He stepped closer again and she couldn't flee, because the refrigerator was blocking her way. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he looked her intently in the eye.

So bad.

She was overwhelmed by his presence, his height and bulk towering over her, his smell and his skin so up close.

Crap. She felt herself caving.

Wanting so badly to reach out and touch his skin, to let her lips slide over the stubble on his neck and up to his mouth, she completely caved. She could practically hear the crumbling of stone.

"It was you!" It was blurted out in a quick rush of air.

"What?"

Crap. Put on the spot.

Might as well go for it, Lorelai, it probably can't get any worse than this.

"It was you, okay? First with the taking off of the t-shirt and the showing of the gorgeous body and my thought-violating you after drooling over you, and then the presidents but then with the water – which was a total cliche, by the way – and the still naked body and grin with the twinkle and everything. And I'm sure the weather had something to do with it because I wouldn't have reacted like this in the winter which makes total sense because you wouldn't be standing half naked in the yard taking a shower with my garden hose because it would be too cold and−"

The words tumbled out. She talked about how she had always noticed that he was attractive and how that was only natural because she was a red blooded woman. She talked about how that attraction didn't always manifest itself, except at key moments such as these and how usually she was able to push them back to the far reaches of her mind.

She talked and talked and hardly noticed that Luke had let go of her, or that he passed a hand over his face or that his expression changed from confusion to shock to disbelief to a smile.

And suddenly she couldn't talk anymore. Not because she had run out of things to say or because her brain had finally given up and exploded, but because he had put his hand over her mouth.

She looked up at him, her eyes big. He looked back down at her with a look of kindness and something else that she couldn't quite place.

But then she saw it. It was lust. And want. And something else.

Oh, dear.

"Shut up, please." She could hear a chuckle in his voice. She started to open her mouth but closed it again and nodded instead.

He took another step closer and pressed her against the refrigerator.

"So, you want me, huh?"

She nodded again. Swallowed nervously. His flesh burned against hers.

"Hmm. What a coincidence..." he mumbled before he lowered his head to hers.

Even though Lorelai wanted nothing more than to feel Luke's lips on her own that very second, something was nagging at the back of her head and before she knew it, she had ducked and moved to the side.

Luke nearly crashed into the refrigerator, but he steadied himself with his hands before said appliance had an oppurtunity to get its hopes up. "What the hell?" For a second he looked about in confusion, before settling his gaze on Lorelai. He raised his eyebrows. "What was that all about?"

"I'm sorry," Lorelai said.

"I don't get it, Lorelai. I thought you wanted this."

She nodded vigorously. "Oh, I do, I do. It's just that... I don't know. Something's wrong."

"What is?" He still stood by the fridge, not having moved a step towards her. She liked that. Like he was respecting her space. It gave her the distance and time to formulate her thoughts.

"When you said, just now, what you said. You know, the coincidence stuff." She struggled a bit. "That means you want me, right?"

"Obviously."

"No, not so obviously, Luke. Well, yes, actually, yeah. It does. But does it mean..." She trailed off.

"Does it mean what, Lorelai? I can't answer your questions if I don't know what they are." He was starting to sound irritated, which was definitely not a good thing.

She hurried into her words. "Does it just mean that you want me? I mean, just now? Or does it mean all those other things as well? That you...do you know what I mean?"

She looked up at him, fearing that she'd said completely the wrong thing, and that he was going to back out now and never come back. She was surprised to see a slight smile on his face. And even more surprised when he chuckled softly.

"Oh, Lorelai," he said, amused, and took a step closer, taking her by the upper arms and looking into her eyes. "You can be so dense sometimes."

She huffed. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now." He thought for a while. "Do you want the really sappy version that will take way too long or the short but equally satisfying answer?"

"Well, if you put it like that, I'll go for the satisfying answer. I'm all for satisfying." She slightly wiggled her eyebrows. Inwardly, she sighed a deep sigh of relief, though. This was going the right way.

"Okay then," he said, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

He looked at her sternly. "Being purposefully dense, are we?"

Giggling, she said, "Maybe."

"You're an idiot," he said, kissing her forehead. "But you know what I mean, right?"

"I don't know. Define 'know'."

"Lorelai!"

She giggled again. "Yes."

And right before he kissed her, she let out a sigh of relief.

Relief not so much at discovering that he wanted her too – although she was very happy to find that out –, but because now she _knew_. That there was no longer that sense of ambiguity to their relationship.

Under different circumstances she would have analyzed the situation until the wee small hours of the night had been wasted away, but since Luke's tongue was making contact with hers and he had slipped his right leg between the two of her, her brain was mush.

She moaned when he ground against her. All the other parts that this situation meant were really good, but right now she was the most focused on the wanting part.

Her hands, previously unoccupied, now tentatively reached upwards. Her fingers felt the soft hair that trailed down from his belly button. They felt his abdominal muscles quiver when they glided over his stomach. They felt his heartbeat when her hands landed on his chest.

She ground back against him.

His heartbeat quickened.

"Luke..." she breathed out when he disengaged from her mouth to start kissing her neck.

"Hmmm?"

She gripped his shoulders when the vibrations from his hummed response went through her entire body. His hands were roaming over her largely naked back, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles on her skin.

She'd wanted to protest against what they were doing, claiming that maybe they should date before doing this or arguing that Rory could come in at any moment. But Rory was at the Hartford pool with Dean and her first argument went out the door when his hands landed on her behind and squeezed.

"Up."

It was all she managed to say.

So he gripped her firmer and lifted her. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. Their groins met head-on.

"Sweet Jesus..." It was Luke who said this.

Suddenly they started to get frantic.

As Luke pushed harder against her, Lorelai's hands went to his hair where she tugged to guide his mouth back to hers. She kissed him deeply, their lips crushed together and their tongues battling for control. Luke's hands were everywhere: on her ass, gliding over her legs, her back, her stomach and her breasts. Her breath hitched as he found every single sensitive spot on her body.

When he ground against her once more and she heard the sparse contents of her refrigerator rattle, she decided it was time to take this somewhere else.

"Luke," she rasped, then cleared her throat. "Luke, up."

"You're up already," he mumbled against her collarbone, then continued sucking.

Biting back a moan, she tried again.

"No, I mean up, up. Bedroom-up."

He looked at her and she would have giggled at the dumb expression on his face if she hadn't been captured by the color of his eyes.

Previously a normal kind of light blue, his eyes were now the darkest kind of indigo she'd ever seen. She could practically see them shimmer with lust.

"Okay," he said. And without setting her down he walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Feeling bold, Lorelai moved her mouth to his ear and grasped his lobe between her teeth.

She felt his knees almost buckle. Luckily he recovered quickly or they would have tumbled down the stairs together and ended up in the kind of heap she didn't want them ending up in.

She suddenly felt herself blushing, thinking about the kind of heap that she _did_ want them to end up in.

Having reached her bedroom, Luke kicked open the already ajar door. He started to enter, but then stopped short and looked around. He let out a low whistle.

"Wow, Lorelai. How do you live here?"

Lorelai craned her neck to survey her room. She had to admit he had a point. The entire floor of her bedroom was littered with clothes, shoes and accessories. She grinned sheepishly.

"Uh... I don't? But hey, the bed is free."

Luke gave her a sly grin. "So it is." And without warning, he tossed her onto it. She landed with a squeal and a bounce.

"Luke! What the hell?" She looked up at him, wanting to deliver a scolding remark, but once again the sight of him caught her dumbfounded.

He stood over her, his body partially caught in the sun streaming through the window, casting him in the most amazing chiaroscuro light. Patches of light warmed up the skin on his shoulders, his chest and the left side of his neck. His face, though covered in half-darkness, wore an expression of pure want. His eyes twinkled and his lips were already slightly swollen from the kisses they'd exchanged.

"God," she breathed. "When did you become this beautiful?"

He shrugged. "Dunno."

She smiled softly, taking in the sight of him. She was going to make love to this man. This amazingly wonderful, caring and sweet man. And he was easy on the eyes, too.

"Come here," she whispered, stretching out her arms. He came to sit next to her on the bed and she climbed into his lap. They smiled at each other.

"You're beautiful," he told her. She shook her head.

"_You_ are."

She bent over to kiss him lightly on the lips, then continued downwards, running her tongue across his jaw, kissing him in the neck, his collarbone. She pushed against his shoulders to make him lie down and kissed his chest, biting softly on one flat nipple. He jerked upward.

"Lorelai..." he growled.

"Shhh," she whispered and slipped her tongue into his bellybutton, her fingers working on the button of his jeans. He jerked again and let out a tortured groan.

"Careful, Lorelai," he warned, "I'm gon−"

He never got to finish his sentence, because Lorelai had pulled his jeans down over his hips and then dragged her nails over the front of his boxers. She cast him a mischievous smile. "Shoes off, please."

He quickly did as told, toeing his socks off as well. She pulled on his pant legs and tossed the jeans aside. She stood before him and regared his prone position on the bed, biting her lower lip.

He was still on his back, propped up by his elbows, still caught in that magical half light. His chest was heaving and his abdominal muscles rippled every time he took a breath. His jaw stood out strong and his eyes were dark under his eyebrows.

She was shaken out of her reverie by Luke's rough voice. "Hey. You okay?" She stook a step closer to him, standing between his legs.

"Believe me," she said, "I'm more than okay." He sat up and ran his hands over her sides.

"Well," he mumbled, "Good."

Grabbing his head and tilting it upwards, she engaged him in a passionate kiss. He moaned into her mouth and started working on the button and zipper of her shorts, pulling them down and running his hands up and down her legs.

She stepped out of her shorts and kicked them away. Taking a step back, she ignored his grumble of discontent. Keeping eye contact with him, she reached around and undid the knot of her bikini on her back, then reached up and undid the knot in her neck.

Challenging him to keep eye contact with her, she let the scrap of material fall to the floor. His gaze wavered, but he met her challenge. She then reached down and pushed her panties off her hips, still looking at him. His nostrils were flaring and his eyelids were fluttering, but still he held her gaze.

It wasn't until she'd stepped out of her panties and thrown them away over her shoulder that his eyes quickly darted downwards before meeting hers again. He licked his parted lips slowly.

God, thought Lorelai. How weird is this? I'm standing in front of Luke, and I'm naked, and he's looking at me.

And then he looked again, but slower this time. His gaze traveled over her shoulders, her chest, her stomach. Down they went, over her belly and her legs. Then he looked her in the eyes again.

He stood up.

Approached her.

Kept eye contact with her.

Smiled.

Arched an eyebrow.

And as quickly and elegantly – well, for a guy anyway – took off his boxershorts, tossing them aside.

Now the staring game was reversed. And she felt challenged. There he was, not one foot away, looking all smug and sure of himself, and all she had to do was _not_ look down.

She caved within seconds.

She looked down and her eyes widened and her mouth formed an "O" but before any sound could come out, he grabbed and dragged her with him to the bed where he towered over her, supporting himself on his arms.

She was trapped.

"Gotcha," he whispered.

"Most definitely," she answered.

And with that, he gave her a quick peck on the lips and buried his head in her neck, where he suckled on her skin. She tilted her head back and let out a moan.

"You're gonna give me the biggest hickey if you keep that up."

He chuckled. "Exactly my plan."

"Hmm. Well okay then, proceed."

After satisfying his need of marking her, Luke continued down her body, kissing, suckling and licking her skin. He went over her clavicles, between and over her breasts, down her midriff and her navel. Finally, he came back up again and looked her in the eye.

Kissed her.

Stroked her back.

She invited him back into her arms. Ran a foot along his calf.

Suddenly he paused and gave her a look.

"What?"

"Are you...uh, are you...?"

She kissed him quickly. "Yes."

"Kay. Good. Cause we don't want you to, uh, you know."

She caressed his shoulders, raked her nails lightly over his back. "No, we don't."

"Although if you were, you know, that'd be okay too. Because, you know, I'd be there. And such. With the, uh..."

"Luke."

He sighed. "Hmm. Yeah. Sorry."

"Exactly. So shut up."

He gave her a look. "But I want you to know – "

"I know."

"Do you?"

"Really. I know. Really." She rubbed her foot along his calf again.

He remained still though, lost in thought. She nuzzled his jaw.

"Luke?"

His eyes focused on her face. "Yeah?"

"I want you."

It took a moment to register, but then his eyes cleared up and his smile was back.

"Oh, you do, don't you?" He softly nudged her. She gasped.

"I do," she panted. Nudged back, at which he took in a sharp breath. "And I believe you want me too."

"You got me there."

With that, he took hold of her hips and, slightly lifting her up, entered her in one long stroke.

For the next indeterminate amount of time, Lorelai had no thoughts whatsoever. All she could do was focus on the feeling of Luke inside of her. She had no control over the sounds that came out of her mouth, very little control over the movements her body was making in reaction to the movements Luke's body was making.

He was making really good movements.

She felt, somehow, a little drunk, and giddy, and completely...good.

"Huh," Lorelai said when, some time later, they were lying next to each other on the unmade bed, their bodies unconnected except for their hands.

"Oh yeah," Luke rumbled. "Great response. Just what I was going for. In fact, I think I once wrote that in my diary. 'Dear diary, my ultimate goal in life is to make love to Lorelai in such a way that her response will be, "Huh."' Yep, exactly what I wanted."

"Shut up." She yawned a little. "And who ever gets talkative _after_ the sex? You're nuts."

"Shut up yourself." He rolled over and slung an arm across her waist.

"Make me."

"Later," he yawned.

"Oh, crap."

"And you're comlaining about _my_ response?"

He nuzzled her neck sleepily. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Not what I meant though."

"Kay." She ran a hand over his hip. "What then?"

"I didn't finish fixing your porchrail. And now it's dark out."

She craned her hear to see out the window. "Hey, whaddyaknow. Guess we tired each other out more than we expected. And what about the porchrail?"

"I didn't get to finish fixing it."

"So?"

"So? So now it isn't fixed."

"I repeat: So?"

"Lorelai..."

"So'll just have to fix it tomorrow. I hear it's gonna be a long summer."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

END

A/N: Since I love riddles so much: anyone who can tell me who Rocco Caggiano is gets major browny points.


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